


Twist of Fate

by Rhaenyra



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Challenge Entry, Community: HPFT, Discrimination, Drama, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Rare Pairings, Romance, Time Travel, Time Turner, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 19:30:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11858163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhaenyra/pseuds/Rhaenyra
Summary: In the fall of 1998, Hermione Granger agrees to help Unspeakables with a subject she has experience with.  Yet, what seems like a simple matter results in surprising consequences.  She has just found romance at the end of the Second Wizarding War, but a twist of fate has sent her to the midst of First Wizarding War and some unusual companions.For dirigibleplum's Classic Fanfiction Tropes challenge





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: This was inspired by the Tropes challenge and by a conversation Meg & Abbi were having on Twitter. And what better way to celebrate only having two multi-chapter fics in progress than by starting another!?
> 
> I am not concerned about canonical time travel minutia or nitpicking in this story. (Although Cursed Child kind of threw time travel for a loop.) Characterization, plot, and the like are fair game but if you expect everything to stick to tiny details of canon or don’t like the idea of time travel fics I recommend you pick a different story.

Chapter 1

Hermione pulled off the hood of her cloak and brushed her hair away from her face. Per the instructions in a letter she had received via owl post the morning before, she had walked briskly from Hogwarts after dinner to the Three Broomsticks. Although she’d made the walk many times over the years, it seemed longer tonight without companions. It was not yet dark, but she’d kept her hand firmly wrapped around her wand in the pocket of her robes the entire way down. A few months of apparent peace was not enough to convince her that she was safe. After a year on the run, she found that old habits died hard.

She nodded at Madam Rosmerta as she walked through the restaurant of the Three Broomsticks. She didn’t bother to check the letter she had received for instructions. She had memorized what it said already, having found herself pulling it out in two of her classes. It was not becoming of the Head Girl, but she was curious. It had read:

 

Dear Ms. Hermione Granger,

Best wishes as you start your final year at Hogwarts. We are aware you are busy, but Mr. Oberon Alton would like to request your assistance with a matter of some sensitivity. When the subject was discussed with trainee Auror Potter, he recommended your name due to personal experience and insight you could provide to the matter at hand.

If you are willing to be of assistance, Unspeakable Madley-Lima will be waiting for you in Room 304 of the Three Broomsticks.

Please send your reply with this owl,

Ruby Wakefield  
Secretary to Oberon Gregory Alton, Head of the Department of Mysteries

 

Hermione walked up the stairs to the third floor, the carpet muffling the sound of her footsteps. Room 304 was two doors down from the stairwell on her left. Squaring her shoulders, she tapped her knuckles on the door three times in quick succession.

She could hear the footfalls of somebody walking towards her on the other side of the door. A few seconds later there was the sound of a chain and the door opened. The woman who opened the door was tall and had an air of authority to her. If Hermione had to guess, she would estimate that the woman was about ten years younger than her parents. “Come in, Ms. Granger.”

Hermione had not spent time in magical hotel rooms and was comforted to see that they closely resembled Muggle ones. The print of the bedspread and the matching heavy curtains were abstract, as was the painting on the wall. That did not surprise her. It would be unsettling to have a portrait watching you as you slept, especially if the hotel had matching prints the same as Muggle hotel chains. At the centre of the room, she turned to face the Unspeakable.

“Please take a seat,” the woman said, pointing to one of the two chairs near the window.

Hermione walked over, looking out over the back garden through the privacy sheers before sitting.

“I am Madley-Lima,” the woman said, taking the chair opposite Hermione. “We at the Department are glad that you offered your assistance.”

Hermione nodded, although she didn’t yet know what it would involve. “I hope I can help,” she replied.

Madley-Lima crossed her ankles. “Harry Potter told us about your contribution to the battle against Voldemort’s followers in the Department of Mysteries two years ago.” Hearing Voldemort’s name said without hesitation, even months after his death, still gave her a little jolt. “I am sure you can recall the destruction to the various chambers.”

“Some,” Hermione said. She had suffered from mild retrograde amnesia after being knocked unconscious, but she remembered the destruction they had caused in the Hall of Prophecy – both intentional and accidental – in perfect detail. From conversations the others had, it sounded like the other chambers had not fared any better. Hearing about planets being destroyed, the time room being filled with shards of glass, and Ron being attacked by brains were not things you easily forgot.

“The following information is off the record,” Madley-Lima said, “even though it is easy to deduce. The attention of Unspeakables has been largely focused on the rebuilding of the objects destroyed during the battle. It was complicated because not only were the objects of study destroyed, but much of the research was lost as well.”

Hermione shifted in her seat uncomfortably. The destruction was inevitable given the fact that they were fighting off Death Eaters, but the loss of knowledge made her uncomfortable.

“Thankfully, to become an Unspeakable you must have top marks in school. Thanks to the partial notes and what had been memorized prior to the battle, significant progress has been made in the restoration. It is that progress that has led us to this meeting.” Hermione watched as the older woman reached into a locked briefcase and pulled out a small box. As she handed it to Hermione she said, “I have been informed by Headmistress McGonagall and Harry Potter that you are familiar with this.”

Nestled on the deep green velvet inside the box was a small hourglass, supported by gold circles and attached to a delicate gold chain. Hermione suppressed a gasp. “You’ve made time turners.”

“We have begun work on crafting time turners again,” Madley-Lima corrected. “Given the extensive damage to the Time Room, it is still in its early stages. You are holding the only completed one.”

Hermione placed her fingers gently on top of the hourglass. “Why are you telling me all this? You’re an Unspeakable.”

“I am, but there are very few people who have experience with the time turners from before the battle two years ago. I should not have to tell you that the number was affected by the recent war. But it is necessary that somebody familiar with time turners, somebody who has used one with some frequency, to examine the new one.”

Their eyes met, brown and blue. “And I am supposed to fill this role?”

A nod. “There was some debate, given your lack of qualifications. But given your role in the downfall of Voldemort and you unparalleled experience in using a time turner, it was decided to ask for your assistance in this matter.”

She hesitated, but Hermione nodded. After everything she had faced in the last year, which had been mentally taxing as well as dangerous, it was a relief to be asked to do something so simple. She lifted it out of the box carefully. She didn’t want to think what the reaction would be if she damaged the only working time turner. “It feels the same,” she said.

“We came to that conclusion as well. The measurements were taken from old notes and old photos have helped ensure that the craftmanship is a match to the originals. The concern at this moment is the spell work.”

Hermione waited for a moment, hoping that the vague classification of spells would be further talked about. After an long, uncomfortable stretch, it became clear that Madley-Lima had no intention of explaining further, at least not without prompting. Hermione asked, “Are there spells that you had to recraft or reattempt from memory?”

“We managed to find most of the information just fine, but there are a few things that have proven impossible to find in the records.”

“What did the people involved in the creation of the last batch of time turners have to say about the missing information? Surely they were able to fill some things in from memory, or at least able to give you a place to start.”

Madley-Lima leaned forward in her chair, pale hands clasped on her knee. She gestured for Hermione to mirror her. “The original batch of time turners were made a long time ago. The oldest was from 1763. The newest one was only new in comparison, as it was completed in 1948.”

Hermione did some quick mental math. Fifty years. “Why did they stop after that?”

“After living through magical and Muggle dictators and examining the policies of the time in a broken down country – no, a broken down continent – some people felt it was best to severely limit access to the time turners in hopes of avoiding their misuse. We believe we know how time travel occurs and the rules of physics it involves, which the newer time turners were unwavering from. The older ones, like the eighteenth century original, were less stable and less predictable. You wouldn’t necessarily pop out where you were standing in the past, and there was some variation in how far each turn would send you back.”

“I had never heard of any of this,” Hermione said, eyes wide. They gave one to her around her fourteenth birthday, but they were so secretive she knew nothing other than what she had been told by Professor McGonagall.

“There was no need,” Madley-Lima replied. “You were given the second newest time turner and that one had never been anything less than steady. And even then, there were lots of debate about whether or not we should let somebody outside of our Department use one. Dumbledore and McGonagall both pulled some strings to get you that one.”

Hermione looked back to the time turner she had been given. “What about this one? How reliable is it?”

The hesitation told her everything she was worried about. “We have not yet used the time turner.”

“Then why am I here?”

“You are the only living person who used the properly functioning time turner more than a hundred times. If anybody would be able to contribute to the further re-development of the time turner project it would be you, Ms. Granger.”

She swallowed hard. “Has anybody used this time turner before? Even once?” When the Unspeakable shook her head, Hermione swore in her head. “After everything I did to bring about Voldemort’s downfall, you are asking me to take a great risk.”

“We are aware of what we are asking of you,” Madley-Lima said in a voice that was somehow both quiet and authoritative. “We only ask that you go back in time two hours. If all goes well, you will be in this room and you will meet a colleague of mine with extensive medical training. If the trip goes as planned you will be able to great him and send him on his way and wait for my arrival. If something has gone wrong, he will be there to help mend you. I can assure you that we believe the risks to you are minimal. We would not have been approved to start testing unless we could show minimal risk.”

After a moment, Hermione pulled the time turner out of the box. She stood up and slipped the petite necklace over her, cloak and all. She hadn’t bothered to take off her outerwear or put down her bag and it was probably a good thing. At least this way she would have everything on her when she went back two hours.

She felt the familiar nerves she’d experienced before she’d used the time turner for the first time back in third year. Would it work? What if the feeling was unexpected and somehow awful? Yet, then and now, she pushed through her fears and lifted the circle up so she could get a better grip on the winding mechanism. She tipped it towards the Unspeakable and spun the dial twice. “This feels the same as before,” she said, carefully holding it in place.

With a nod, she let go and the device began to spin on its own, the way she remembered. The rest though… that was different. There was a blur of colours swarming around her and the muffled noises were building, building, until they began to merge into a high pitched, shrill sound. She didn’t remember it being this intense before. She’d been able to make out bits and pieces of the world around her, but now she couldn’t even tell what was moving around her.

The intensity did not dull, which added a new layer to her anxiety that this may be going wrong. She had gone back two hours in time numerous times. She had been doing it multiple times a day, five days a week, for a year. It had never taken this long.

Hermione closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. Hold, hold. Breathe out slowly. There was no need to worry. They could work on making the process easier to deal with in the future. Hers probably required some tweaks to get it as consistent and easy to deal with. Expecting perfection from the first attempt at a project was well and good, but unlikely.

The high pitched shrieking stopped and Hermione felt herself physically relax. It had ended. The relief that it had all stopped only lasted until she had opened her eyes.

The wooden floors of before had been replaced by a plush orange carpet. The painted walls were now covered in wallpaper with beige and orange flowers. The beds and chairs in the room were all made of a light, honey oak and were decorated with white linens and yellow cushions.

She was not two hours back. She was much, much farther back in time than she had agreed to.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione figures out how far back in time she has travelled.

Chapter 2

Okay, the first thing she needed to do was not to panic. If she was going to deal with whatever went wrong, she was going to need to figure out where she was. She meant that literally and figuratively. She would need to find out the name where she was (the Three Broomsticks, or had her location been thrown off?) and the date. Those were the bare minimum. She wouldn’t be able to solve a problem if she didn’t know exactly what the problem was.

She walked out of the room, which was laid out exactly like the one she had just left. She pulled open the heavy, fireproof door and entered the corridor. A quick look over her shoulder showed her the door had three brass numbers on it near the peep hole: 304. Judging by the layout of the corridor and the nearby stairwell, she suspected that this was the same building that the Three Broomsticks was in in her time.

Hermione wrapped her cloak around her as she took the stairs down to the main level. On the way two people walked past her, a young couple wearing unusually patterned robes. They were giggling as the woman was stumbling up the stairs in her high heel. The man she was with held his cigarette between his lips before helping her up, still giggling, and through the door for the second floor rooms.

It was a relief to see that the lowest level of the Three Broomsticks had not changed. Sure, the flooring looked a bit different and the décor wasn’t exactly like it had been when she walked through the lobby a few minutes before, but the rest was the same. The bar was in the same spot, there were the same round tables around part of the room and metal and black leather stools lining the bar area. There was even a woman who sounded familiar to Madam Rosmerta laughing somewhere to her right. The fact that the Three Broomsticks was still here, with the same bartender, and the same furniture was reassuring. She couldn’t have gone that far back.

She stood at the side of the room and looked over. The room was packed, but she didn’t recognize the faces. They definitely weren’t people she had gone to school with. Every time there was a face that looked somewhat familiar she had a surge of hope, but it never lasted long. She was always disappointed by realizing that the person she’d thought may be a friend had different hair, or a different nose, or a completely different body type.

Yet the entire thing didn’t seem to be unpromising. At a table near the corner of the room, an elderly man was reading a newspaper while drinking a pint. That paper could give her the answer of when she was. Asking somebody would make her seem crazy or draw attention, but this wouldn’t. She would have no other choice.

She squared her shoulders and walked over to where the man was sitting. “Hello, sir,” she said. “Do you mind if I look through the paper if you’re finished with it?”

He didn’t reply, but gave a grunt and pushed the lopsided stack towards her. She took that as a yes, so she thanked him profusely. She sat at a nearby table and began sorting through the pages, trying to find the date. She finally did near the upper corner of one of the pages. (It to be said in favour of Muggles, at least they kept the relevant information easy to find.)

Thursday September 7th, 1978

But that… that couldn’t be. The time turner should have brought her back hours, they weren’t made to bring you back years. Certainly not two decades. But that seemed to have been what happened. This was the Three Broomsticks and she had wound up in the same room. A quick glance at the clock on the wall told her that even the time was the same as when she had let. The only difference was that she was now twenty years in the past.

Merlin. She wouldn’t even be born for another year.

All the rules she thought she knew about time travel had just gone out the window. It would be easy to ensure that she didn’t see herself, seeing as her mother was not even pregnant yet. Other people though, how was she to approach that? Nobody knew her, so simply living in the wizarding world could cause questions about who she was and why she hadn’t attended Hogwarts.

That wasn’t even going to get into the problem of how she could fix this. The only way she knew to move forward in time was to wait for your time in the past to run out, hopefully when you were somewhere secret in close proximity to the you who was about to go back in time. That would not be an option now. She couldn’t wait twenty years to get back home, when she would suddenly be old enough to be her friends’ mother. There had better be a way to fix this.

Hermione walked over to the bar. It was important not to draw attention to herself and standing to the side of the room, not talking to anybody or drinking anything, had already gotten her a few looks. She flagged down the nearest bartender, a young woman with a flowy floral print blouse and wide trousers. She was shocked when a familiar head of corkscrew curls and a wide smile greeted her. “What can I get for you love?” asked the much younger Madam Rosmerta.

“Uh,” Hermione began, surprised at the sudden appearance of the forty-something barkeep she knew in her mid-twenties. “Just a butterbeer for now please.”

As Madam Rosmerta walked away, Hermione reached in her bag for some sickles. Thank Godric she’d kept it on her. She had a couple sickles in her hand when the mug was placed in front of her with a soft clunk. She was getting ready to hand the sickles over when Madam Rosmerta said, “That will be one sickle, 15 knuts please.”

Hermione felt her cheeks flush as she dug around in her bag for the little bronze coins. Apparently, inflation was a thing even in the wizarding world. Rosmerta didn’t seem to mind. At the very least, she kept a smile on her face. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before,” she said, dark hand picking up the coins Hermione had placed on the bar.

“Oh, I haven’t been,” Hermione said in a rush.

Rosmerta looked like she wanted to say something else, but a rather drunk portly fellow a few seats down called her and she hurried back down the bar.

Sipping on her butterbeer, Hermione ran through her options in her head. Her first instinct was to go to the library to see what the literature said about time travel mishaps, but she was not a Hogwarts student in this time. She wasn’t even wearing her school uniform anymore. She’d thought it would be best to change into trousers and a nice jumper before going to meet with a representative from the Department of Mysteries. She was Head Girl, but she was nearly nineteen and had helped bring down the darkest wizard of all time. She did not need to be treated like a child.

Though now, come to think of it, maybe being treated like a child wouldn’t have been so bad. If she was underage they wouldn’t have asked her to use an experimental time turner so she wouldn’t have had the opportunity to be stupid enough to say yes.

She was sure she could get into the school without a problem. The knowledge in the Marauder’s Map would be enough for that. The real problem would be once she was in the school. Was Filch the caretaker twenty years ago? She thought so, but even if he wasn’t it was unlikely that the caretaker before him would be any more pleased. Not to mention showing up as an unknown figure in wartime would be putting herself at incredible risk. If people in 1978 were as jumpy as they had been in the latter part of Voldemort’s reign of terror, she could be hexed on sight.

Hermione considered what would happen even if she did get through to the library without running into trouble. She would only have her wand for light, unless she picked up a stray torch somewhere. The books she needed would probably be in the restricted section, since the potential of messing with the timeline was incredibly dangerous. Going there in the dark, pulling books off the shelves without knowing their contents, was asking for disaster.

No, she was going to need some help. This went against everything that she had been told before being given the time turner in the first place, but what was the alternative?

As far as she could tell, she only had two options. The first was to travel to the Ministry of Magic in London. Once she was there, she could contact somebody in the Department of Mysteries and explain the situation. They were the ones who had gotten her into this mess, so they should be the ones who should help get her out of it. Even if she didn’t think they had a duty to help her, they were also a good option because they were the only ones who knew anything about making time turners.

She pulled her cloak around herself more tightly as a breeze came in with new patrons. There were some problems with going to the Ministry. Most notably, there was the fact that Unspeakables were sure to be suspicious of her story even if they did agree to talk to her. It wasn’t like she knew who was in the Department twenty years ago.

She did know somebody who might believe her though. Somebody who had enough pull with the Ministry of Magic that they’d asked him to be Minister of Magic. Somebody who she would bet was sitting in the Hogwarts Headmaster’s office right now. Dumbledore would keep an open mind if she went to see him to explain the situation. He always believed their stories before, no matter how far fetched.

Visiting Dumbledore would pose the same risks as sneaking into the library to do research at night would, though. Unfortunately, this was a problem that was not going to go anywhere soon. As impatient as she was, she knew it would be smarter to wait until morning.

She drank the dregs of her butterbeer in three big gulps. She would need to get a room for the night somewhere in Hogsmeade. With the echo of future Dumbledore’s words to Harry about remaining inconspicuous in a crowd, she went to ask if there were any vacancies at the Three Broomsticks.

 

Hermione was up, dressed, and eating breakfast by eight o’clock the next morning. She had slept in bursts, waking up with a dozen bad thoughts over the course of the night. They varied, but they all shared one central tenant: she was going to be stuck here forever.

The first time she set foot in Hogsmeade that morning, Hermione found herself looking for similarities between this and the village she knew. The buildings themselves seemed to be more or less the same, but she didn’t recognize many of the signs. Zonko’s was in the same building it occupied in the ‘90s, but the sign was much smaller. Honeydukes, on the other hand, looked like nothing had changed. Even the candies in the display looked similar to the last time she’d been.

Unfortunately, the building of the clothing shop Hermione had planned to grab a few things was advertising a sale on extra school supplies that students may have forgotten. A few doors down she could see empty clothing racks being rolled into a shop by a couple of blonde girls who looked to be about her age, but the window only displayed a “coming soon!” poster.

Hermione ended up spotting a shop displaying two robed figures and a few mannequins wearing what must have been the fashions of the day. She made a mental note to go there after she finished talking to Dumbledore. She didn’t want to walk up to the castle while carrying her shopping.

When the turrets and high walls of the castle came into view in the distance, Hermione felt herself relax a bit. Hogwarts, at least, had not changed. Even better, there were none of the security measures she had seen in her sixth year. In fact, she walked up to the Entrance Hall doors having seen only a group of students who looked to be in their second year running down to the greenhouses, robes billowing behind them and laughs floating on the breeze.

It was an odd feeling, walking through the castle corridors. They looked they same as they always had, but the people the walls were hiding were all different from the ones she knew. In the whole castle, she could probably count the people who had been there during her time at Hogwarts on her hands.

In front of the gargoyle blocking the Headmaster’s office, Hermione began listing types of sweets. A wave of relief washed over her when it moved. It was good that Dumbledore stuck to types of sweets as his passwords. Her nerves started to creep up on her when she reached the top of the stairs, but she knocked before she could think too much.

There were a few moments where she heard nothing. Was he in? Had he gone to assist a professor? It was a relief when the gentle voice she knew so well said, “You may enter.”

Hermione opened the door just enough that she could slide in. “Good morning Professor.”

Her breath caught in her throat when she saw Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, surrounded by the similar smattering of knickknacks. She’d never thought she would see him again, but here he was, alive and well.

Dumbledore appeared to be partway through reviewing his mail, as he had a couple open letters and a few more envelopes piled next to a still rolled copy of the Daily Prophet. He must have been wondering who she was, but she didn’t see any signs of confusion on his lined face or in his twinkling blue eyes. It was as though strangers greeted him all the time. Being Dumbledore, maybe they did.

He stood up. “I do not believe we have met, Miss…?”

“Granger,” Hermione said. As she shook his hand, she said, “You don’t know me, but my name is Hermione Granger.”

Dumbledore sat down again and gestured for Hermione to take the seat across the desk. “It is not every day strangers get through the gargoyle unannounced.” His tone was light, but Hermione sensed that her unexpected appearance had put him on guard.

Telling herself that Dumbledore was used to improbable stories, she said, “While you don’t recognize me, I know you very well.” She pulled the box holding time turner out of her bag, opened it, and placed it on Dumbledore’s desk. “You were my headmaster at Hogwarts when I attended Hogwarts in the nineties.”

Was that a flicker of surprise? It was always hard to tell with Dumbledore. Knowing she sounded like she was speaking nonsense, Hermione tried to explain what had transpired to bring her here as concisely as possible. Considering the events leading to the time turner’s creation started two years ago it took longer than she would have liked, even though she skipped most of the events of the war. As much as she wanted to warn Dumbledore of things to come, she could still hear McGonagall’s voice explaining the dangers of time travel in her head.

Through it all, Dumbledore didn’t interrupt. When she finished, he asked, “If you could refresh my memory on the names of the Unspeakables you dealt with.”

“The letter was from the Head of the Department, Oberon Alton. I assume he is required to be an Unspeakable. I only saw one though, a woman with the surname Madley-Lima.”

Dumbledore made a noise of recognition. “Alton is an Unspeakable, yes. He has been for nearly thirty years now. Excellent reputation. I am going to assume that Madley-Lima is the young lady currently known as Lavinia Madley. She started with the Department a few weeks ago.”

A wave of relief washed over her. He recognized these names. “Will you help me get in contact with them?”

“Certainly,” replied Dumbledore. “We cannot have you stuck here. We are living in a dangerous time, I am afraid.”

She didn’t need to be told that twice. She had seen firsthand how dangerous it was to be a Muggleborn in war-torn wizarding Britain.


End file.
